October 3rd, 2017. It was early in the morning; the sun hadn’t even risen yet.
The sky wore the faint glow of predawn light, and the stars twinkled as twilight hung onto the night before the first sunbeam crossed the eastern horizon. Erica, Isabella and I walked outside to the car, our breath creating little puffs of steam against the chilly autumn morning. We were heading to the hospital; within a matter of hours, a new human life would come into this world.
This wasn’t my first trip to the delivery room, but I was just as nervous. Half asleep, Isabella sat in the back seat next to the little car seat which would carry her newborn baby brother.
As we drove to the hospital, I reached over and held Erica’s hand. I knew she was nervous and feeling anxious. Having a baby is a big deal and a significant life event for anyone on their best day. We had already been through so much as a family, so the size and magnitude of everything going on seemed so much more significant. Still, even though we felt moments of nervousness and anxiety, we relied on God and our church family who surrounded us with prayer, love, and support.
The car GPS said that the trip would take about 30 minutes – I think I got there a little sooner than that. As we pulled into the hospital parking lot, I looked in the rear-view mirror and saw Isabella had fallen back asleep. “Isabella, we’re here. Time to wake up sweetie,” I said. Isabella yawned and stretched, “Oh we’re already here? That was fast,” she replied, half asleep and half awake.
I pulled the car up to the very front of the building and into one of the parking spaces labeled ‘EXPECTING MOMS.’ “Wow, this is for real…today is the day…I’m gonna meet my son!”, I thought to myself.
Once we were all settled into the hospital, the whole check-in process took less than half-an-hour. Soon, Erica was escorted into her private delivery room, and we were introduced to the team of nurses who would be helping deliver the baby. The lead nurse took Erica’s blood pressure and other vital signs, while Isabella and I checked out the room where we’d be spending the next several hours. Then she began the process of inducing Erica’s labor. The doctor came in the room soon after just to fill us in on what to expect. I asked him what time he thought Erica might deliver the baby; he chucked and jokingly said, “Definitely before 7pm because that’s when my favorite TV show comes on!”
As the morning wore on, Isabella got hungry, so I went and picked up some breakfast at a fast-food restaurant down the street. When I got back to the hospital, one of Erica’s close friends from church was in the delivery room, keeping Erica company. Childbirth is a unique and emotional event for any family; even more so for ours. Although we were many miles away from biological relatives, we were never alone because we had our church family there with us. For the next several hours, Erica’s friend and Christian Sister stayed by her side, to keep her company, comfort her, and pray with her.
Soon lunch time came around, and the nurses were checking on Erica more frequently. Based on the progress she was making; she would be going into labor very soon. Around noon, the first wave of massive contractions kicked in. By this point, the nurse had already called the doctor, who was in his office down the hall and provided him an update. Based on how far apart and how intense the contractions were, it wouldn’t be long before Erica would need to start pushing.
As the contractions increased in intensity and frequency, the nurse asked Erica how she was feeling. Erica replied that she felt intense pressure and pain. When the nurse checked her progress in dialation, she was surprised and said that Erica was ready to start pushing. Then the nurse quickly called for the doctor to come in and begin the delivery process.
Meanwhile, Erica’s friend and Isabella rushed out of the room while the doctor ran in to start delivering the baby. We had agreed before hand that Isabella should stay in the waiting room with Erica’s friend while she was going throught the actual delivery.
Once the doctor arrived, he asked enthusiastically, “So, how’s everyone doing? Y’all ready to have a baby today?”, as the nurses helped him put on his gown, mask, and gloves. “How ya doing momma? Ya feelin’ alright?”, he said to Erica as he checked the charts and vitals. Erica tiredly replied, “Yes…I’m just ready…to get this done.”
“Hey dad, how you doin’ sir? You look nervous…you nervous?”, the doctor chuckled and joked. I smiled and replied, “I’m good to go doc…ready to do this.”
By this point, the contractions were coming closer and closer together and had merged into nearly one long contraction. The doctor looked at the monitor screen and waited until the next big one. “Alright Erica, you should be feeling another big contraction any moment…as soon as you do, I want you to push until I say stop…you ready?”, the doctor said. Before he even finished his sentence, he suddenly shouted, “NOW!!!…PUSH…PUSH…PUSH…C’MON, THAT’S IT.
Erica’s squinted and winced, her face became bright red as she bore down and pushed. My hand went numb, and the blood left my fingers as she squeezed my hand until it felt like my fingernails were going to pop off.
One push…two pushes, then suddenly the doctor said to Erica, “Alight mom…you got this…this is it…this next contraction you’re gonna have this baby. You’re almost there. One more big push.” Then the doctor looked over at me, “Dad when I say ‘PUSH,’ I want you to tell her she’s got this…tell her to push as hard as she can.” I nodded and looked Erica in the eyes. “You got this honey…get ready…our little guy is almost here.”
I had scarcely spoken the words when Erica’s face winced up again, and the doctor shouted, “PUSH…C’MON MOMMA…PUSH!”. I echoed the doctor’s words and excitement, “Yeah Erica, push…ya got this honey…push”.
As Erica was pushing and bearing down with all her might, I saw the doctor quickly reach down and tell the nurses to get ready. One nurse stepped closer to the doctor, while the other went to check the heat-lamp, scale, and other stuff they would need once our baby was born.
While I was looking over at the two nurses setting up the post-delivery equipment, I suddenly saw out of the corner of my eye a wiggly, wet little person appear. “Well, here is he is! It’s a boy, dad! You’ve got a boy; did you already know that?” Before I could entirely focus my eyes and attention on what I was seeing, a mighty little cry pierced through the moment.
Meanwhile, what we didn’t know is that Isabella had refused to go to the waiting room and insisted on standing right outside the door to the delivery room until she heard the cries of her new baby brother.
Interestingly, the hospital had a tradition of playing a cute little tune over the announcement system everytime a baby was delivered. So, just as the new baby tune played in the room, another nurse came by and told Isabella that she had to go to into the waiting room. Even though she was filled with excitement, Isabella reluctanely complied.
As the nurses held my little boy in the receiving blankets, my eyes began to fill with tears of joy. Nothing and no one will ever replace my dad Michael, my little brother Benjamin, or my precious daughter Elizabeth. But at that moment, it felt like the wounds caused by those traumatic losses were soothed with the healing touch of hope and life.
I determined in my heart that none of the darkness, trauma, and pain which I had to walk through would ever touch that little boy. I looked at him and vowed that he would be loved, protected, trained, and developed into a man who is confident about his God-ordained purpose and destiny.
As I held his tiny hand in mine, I leaned over and whispered in my son’s ear, “I’m never going to leave you son…your daddy’s never going leave you”.
When my dad Michael committed suicide, he didn’t know the cascade effect it would have across multiple generations in one family. He was stolen away by an unremorseful enemy of the human soul. Over the span about 30 years the same enemy, which caused my dad to give up hope, had lurked in the shadows. It whispered wicked lies of self-loathing and self-harm to other people within my family.
The enemy wasn’t satisfied with merely causing misery. No, instead it delighted in creating pain and suffering, all of which is part of it’s ruthless and cold-blooded objective – to kill, steal, and destroy.
The same enemy, which preyed on my dad’s mind, eviscerated and consumed every shred of my little brother Benjamin’s confidence and self-worth. It weaved a web of deception and substance abuse around his mind – to the point where he ended up dying from alcohol poisoning two months before his 19th birthday.
In the years which followed the passing of my little brother, the enemy would end up wreaking havoc by stealing four more people within my family. Each loss echoed with a sense of helplessness; as if those of us left behind could do nothing to stop it. It felt like the enemy was telling us that we had to just to sit there, take it, and wait for the next one to happen. Heartache and pain became a repeated drumbeat through my entire immeditate and extended family…but for me, nothing was as personal or painful as what I had to endure in 2015 when that same enemy took my oldest daughter Elizabeth.
To see my child taken from me in the same violent way that my dad, her grandfather, was taken, was too raw, real, and personal. I knew that something had to be done. The destruction had to stop. Elizabeth was just a 15-year-old girl full of life, beauty, and promise…and yet that same enemy, who had destroyed and stolen the lives of so many other people in my family, took my daughter’s life too.
It was time to make that enemy pay.
And so I embarked on a journey of healing, purpose, and hope. It was an active counter-offensive comprised of six lines of effort:
- Strengthening my spirit and deepening my relationship with God.
- Healing my mind from everything I had suffered.
- Sharpening my life’s vision and taking active steps to make that vision reality.
- Recognizing chronic toxic behaviors.
- Defining and setting boundries on those who refuse to think, operate, or be in relationships in a healthy way.
- Knowing and embracing my God-created purpose and living it unapologetically and boldly.
To put action into these lines of effort, I leaned on two essential resources:
- A strong cadre of people who could speak life, wellness, strength, and help me rehabilitate my mind from the horrible things I had witnessed. These individuals were also dedicated to helping me sort through layer upon layer of damage which had been caused by the dysfunction, abuse, and manipulation I suffered through during my childhood.
- Fellowship with people who shared the same values of life, purpose, and faith. I became part of a family of Believers who could keep me accountable, provide encouragement, and pray with me as I embraced life with tenacity and intentionality.
As momentum built and I advanced along my six lines of effort, I began to see growth and changes. A vision began to take shape, and clarity of purpose was forming. This means building a legacy of excellence and prosperity in every aspect of my life – mentally, emotionally, physically, financially, and spiritually – a legacy where God’s very best is woven into the fabric of not just my life, but the lives of those who come after me.
My vision became plain – establish a legacy of life, promise, and hope built on the endless love of a Sovereign God.